


The Pocketwatch

by KoroMarimo



Category: Hellsing
Genre: F/M, Implied Relationships, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Millennium | Letze Battallion, Nazis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-02
Updated: 2018-05-02
Packaged: 2019-05-01 02:06:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14510148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KoroMarimo/pseuds/KoroMarimo
Summary: A few parting gifts made the difference for one engineer.





	The Pocketwatch

**Author's Note:**

> I'm posting these here because for some reason my copy paste on my computer is wack.... UGH! Requested on my hellsing-inserts blog.

In the span of two weeks the Major had called you into his office for a private conference a total of six times. Nothing of particular significance had ever actually taken place at these meetings, oddly enough he had been showering you with gifts and praise, calling you a very good girl and giving you little trinkets before sending you on your merry way with a rather gentle kiss and a playful slap on the ass.

What was this about? You’d wondered many times. Sometimes you thought it a show of sympathy. Rip Van Winkle mostly garnered his attention and earned the most praise from everyone else for her looks. You were “one of the boys”, constantly covered in grime or grease, an educated young engineer that talked about things no one else could really understand save for a few. What was special about you?

“You always work so hard.” he’d tell you when you asked. “You’re so loyal, always striving to do better than your best. You deserve something nice.”

The gifts were quite grand for someone of your caliber. First there was the steel case that had been filled with fragrant cherry cigars, then the jackknife made of silver which you teased Rip Van Winkle with often, and then there was your newly made Lieutenant’s jacket complete with medals and decorations of honor which you had delighted over and hardly took off. Admittedly you hadn’t done anything worthy of a promotion, and Major himself insisted that he just wanted to give you something that was shiny and new.

“Back again with another present schatzi?” asked one of your friends when you returned with the jacket. “What is it you’re doing compared to the rest of us?”

“I… I’m not sure…” you admitted. “It would be nice to know.”

They never said a word, but you knew they were jealous. Like schoolboys who never really learned to grow up they gossiped and teased you about the trinkets, but unfortunately you didn’t care. For once in your life you didn’t have to rely on a façade of rouge and dresses to make yourself attractive in the Major’s eyes. For once in your life, a man had seen the goodness inside of you instead of being blinded by the dirt and grime.

He had to have cared about you… You thought. There was no other explanation.

Yet no other gift was as grand as the final one he had given you. It was a lovely pocket watch engraved with a Hoheitszeichen eagle and other intricate embellishments on the outside, the watch hands and numbers were of the most delicate obsidian, and you were told the face was crafted from a meteorite. It was complete with its own chain and engraving proclaiming the year it was given and by whom. Major’s full name looked lovely in the script he’d chosen. Another compartment within the cover allowed for a portrait to be placed there like a locket, and the Major had placed there a small photograph of himself when he was younger and far thinner, perhaps his late twenties where he was dressed handsomely his SS uniform. At the bottom of the photograph, in delicate scrawl most likely done with a fountain pen, was a simple message:

_All my love to you._

How your eyes had sparkled when you had opened the watch and taken it from its pretty box.

“Oh Major!” you had gushed, and you could hardly stop thanking him in between hungry kisses and tight squeezes which he returned each time with a laugh or a kiss of his own as you squealed. It was true, you felt nothing but uncertainty about what you meant to him, but the watch was so beautifully crafted and intricate you couldn’t help but feel humbled to receive it. Every time you took it out to ascertain the time, compliments would flutter like butterflies around your head and each time the question would be posed:

“Where did you get such a beautiful watch?”

And each time you would swell with pride.

“Why this? Mien Major gave it to me. Isn’t he simply too wonderful for words?”

You would hold onto it forever, no matter if it was a parting gift before he sent you off to die.


End file.
